Love and War
by Min Daae
Summary: Mat learns how similar marriage and war really are when he and Tuon come to a clash of wills. However, he begins to realize that he may have been infected with the disease called true love... but can he bend his stiff neck enough to admit it? TWOSHOT.
1. War

_A/N: Yay! Another WoT fic! Knife of Dreams spoilers, here. This makes me happy. Another oneshot, I'm afraid. I hope you all like oneshots, because you're going to see a lot of them from me. Heh. Mat/Tuon, this time. Not entirely certain when this happens, only that it is sometime when he is married to Tuon. In 'Lise time._

Mat had thought that things might be easier with Tuon after he was married. Light! Him! Married! He could hardly believe how much things were changing. First modesty, now this. He had sworn never to get married, and had always scorned those puffed up fools that called themselves noble. And now he was both. Leashed and taught to sit by some Light forsaken Seanchan woman. She was pretty, though. And the bloody _Prince _of bloody _Ravens, _to boot. Walking through the halls of what had been Queen Tylin's palace, he kicked viciously at the base of a column, and regretted it, cursing as he clutched the injured toe.

"What on earth are you doing kicking the columns, Toy?"

Mat winced. She hadn't stopped calling him that, unfortunately. Not when they were alone, anyway. At least she had the grace not to do in front of the rest of the Seanchan. He couldn't stand any of them, with all their courtesy and bowing and ideas about "seeing moss" or something. He didn't understand any of that. Releasing his toe and putting some weight on the offended foot gingerly, he turned toward her, making his voice as dry as he possibly could. "Just testing their strength, Tuon." He resisted the urge to call her Precious. He was not going to play her games anymore. He was sick of it.

"That's very silly, Toy. You can hurt yourself that way."

"No, really?" Mat said, gritting his teeth. "And I told you not to call me that, Precious." He couldn't resist this time, not when she put that emphasis on _Toy_. She was right back to shaving her head everyday and growing her fingernails a foot long. Bloody Seanchan customs. She was prettier with hair, and the nails were mildly frightening. But at the shocked look on her face, he regretted bringing up the old nickname. Or maybe not. He was probably offending dozens of wool-headed Seanchan traditions by calling her Precious. But she was not going to get away with calling him Toy for much longer. Bloody Seanchan and their bloody honor. He was in a bad mood and angry at everyone, but mostly the Seanchan. And the bloody _Dragon Reborn _Rand al'Thor, for getting him into this mess.

Tuon wiped the surprise off her face, looking more than a little annoyed. He gritted his teeth and prepared for an outburst – Light, the woman had a temper like a tiger – but instead she laughed and wrapped her arms around him, leaning against his chest. Mat stared down at her. Women. He would never understand them, and most of all, this one.

"Kiss me, Toy," she said. He scowled, and pushed her off. He was not in the mood to have his brain tangled around a woman's finger, at least, not this early in the morning. Women seemed to find it second nature scrambling your brains, especially Tuon. Bloody woman.

"No thanks," he said, as politely as he could manage. Which wasn't much. "I'm sure you have some Seanchan matters of state to attend to. Bloody people," he muttered under his breath, but not quietly enough, apparently.

"What was that, Toy?" Tuon said dangerously.

"Oh, nothing," he said quickly. He didn't like being on the receiving end of her tempers, and this would certainly merit one. "I'd better be going. Patrolling the grounds or sipping wine or whatever it is you bloody nobles do." He didn't even care about watching his language in front of her. She hardly seemed to mind, anyway. He moved away quickly, before she could snag him again and drag him off to one of those parties. Last time he had gone to one, he had done nothing but stand around and talk of dull things. Light, what _did _nobles do with all that time?

Tuon laughed softly, her voice following him down the halls. "It is too bad that I cannot make you _da'covale _now that you are Prince of Ravens, my husband. You would look very fine in the robes of property."

He flushed and sped up his step. Thank the light she would not. He had seen those robes that the _da'covale _wore. They were hardly anything! "Blood and bloody ashes," he muttered. Easier? Light, marriage seemed to be even _worse _than war.

At least she did not hunt him like Queen Tylin had, back when he had been her plaything. He had been lucky to escape that woman, if only for this one with a leash wound around his neck. Sometimes she would turn up at inopportune moments – like the incident with the column – but that seemed to be purely coincidence. Though he wouldn't put it past her that most of the spies tailing after him through the palace were hers, stationed there just so she could show up at unfortunate times.

Such as the day when he had attempted to have a quick cuddle with one of the nicer maids, one of the few that had made fun of him more rarely than most when he had been Tylin's duckling. It was harmless flirting, of course, but Tuon had come sweeping down on them with a face like a thundercloud. He still wore the bruises from her mad attack. The woman fought better than some of his men! If he unleashed her on a _gholam, _he would have placed his bets on her. Not that he would put her in danger, of course. But he hadn't seen the serving woman since, and had an uncomfortable feeling he had gotten her dismissed. And now all the women wouldn't give him as much as a smile. Poor women. Bloody Tuon.

In fact, perhaps it was best to assume that coincidences simply didn't happen around Tuon. After all, she had all those Seanchan groveling at her feet now that she was the _bloody _Empress of the Nine Moons, or whatever it was her bloody title had changed to. He wished he'd never met her, however. Well, maybe he was happy that he had – she could be pleasant enough, when she wasn't trying to boss him and behaving as if she already owned the whole world. She was arrogant enough before this…promotion…to Empress, and she had only gotten more full of herself afterward. Someone need to puncture her inflated head before she simply up and floated away.

Mat barked a laugh when he thought of Nynaeve growling at him about how conceited he _himself _was. Perhaps he could be a bit…overconfident at times, but Nynaeve took puncturing self-importance to extremes. She would be the one to puncture Tuon, all right. Or more likely they would end up in a fist fight before the end of the day, with both their tempers. No, they would not get along too well. Perhaps her and Elayne?

He laughed again. They would be a perfect pair, the two of them with their chins up and their noses in the air, so high and mighty on their thrones. He could just picture them, each bragging about the size of their respective palaces. They would probably end up with fists too. Light, Tuon probably couldn't get along with anyone that she couldn't boss around! He scowled. Besides, Elayne would probably demand to be made _gai'shain _or whatever it was, with all those crazy Aiel ideas floating into her head via Aviendha. The Light _burn_ that woman. She seemed to think that her knife was the best solution to anything. And that game – Maiden's Kiss. Light, the Aiel were barbarians, every one of them. But mostly the Maidens.

He smiled wryly as he made his way through the expansive palace to his new rooms. Of course, the _flaming _Prince of Ravens couldn't have just an ordinary room. The one he had now was nearly as big as his house in the Two Rivers! All the women seemed to be going mad – Tylin, Tuon, Elayne, Aviendha, Nynaeve – she had gotten even _more _of a temper, if that was possible. Perhaps it was something about Altara. In the water maybe, that gave everyone who lived in this Light-forsaken country hot blood. Or maybe it was a sign of the Last Battle. He smiled in spite of himself at the last thought, then shivered.

It didn't even make him flinch anymore, thinking about Aiel or the Last Battle or the bloody Dragon Reborn. Only a couple years ago, he had thought that the Seanchan were traveler's tales, the Dragon was some sinister children's tale, and similarly with the Aiel and the Last Battle. And now here he was – married to a Seanchan women, traveling and fighting with and against Aiel, preparing for the Last Battle, and the Dragon Reborn turned out to be his best friend. Who would have guessed that the Dragon would be a shepherd from a little farming village? It seemed… mprobable. Before he had left home, he had never used words bigger than five letters, and had no idea what a battle looked like. Now everything had changed, and he found himself the leader of an entire bloody_ army. _With dead, educated man's memories floating around in his head. _Blood _and _bloody ashes_, he thought fiercely.

He found himself at the door to his rooms. Thank the Light he had managed to talk Tuon out of giving him his own personal guard. He would have certainly looked a fool, with a troop of those grim-faced Deathwatch Guards tailing him wherever he went. He scowled slightly and opened the door. Though, he thought wryly, with a name like "Deathwatch," who can blame them for grimacing?

Then the door opened, and his small smile faded. He slammed the door behind him and scowled at the small figure sitting, legs daintily crossed, on the edge of his bed, examining a coat of his. "What-" he started to say hoarsely, then cleared his throat. "What under the Light are you doing here?" he hissed.

"You have a tear in your coat," she noted calmly. "You should have that fixed. It does not do for a Prince of Ravens to have a torn coat."

Mat spluttered. Women seemed to think that if they changed the subject often enough, men would forget what they were complaining about. The trouble was, it seemed to work. "Answer my question," he said, struggling to keep his voice more even. He _would not _show Tuon how much her constant tagging along nagged at him!

"I am merely watching over my interests," she said, smoothing her skirts slightly. "I want to make sure that you don't forget who you belong to."

"I don't belong to anyone!" Mat said. Tuon looked a little amused, and he lowered his voice. "You can't boss me around anymore, Tuon. Aren't I on equal footing with you now, now that I'm Prince of the Crows or whatever it is?"

Tuon glanced up, her eyes glittering dangerously. Her voice was dangerously soft. "Master Cauthon, I have the pleasure of informing you that no one is equal to the Empress. That includes her husband. So I can order you around as much as I please. Now, shut that mouth and stop spouting such foul words to your wife."

Mat closed his gaping jaw, even angrier now. He was ready for a full blown argument. "Well, do you have to follow me around the palace like…like a duckling?"

Tuon's face darkened. "You are the duckling, Toy. Not me."

Mat scowled at her fiercely. "Remember Teslyn and Joline? I ought to turn you over my knee and spank you silly like the little girl you are. Pouting because your pet won't obey you anymore. Well, I'm sick of being dragged around by you women. First Tylin, now this! I'm not your tame dog, Tuon – no, nor Tylin's, either!"

Suddenly she was smiling, her arms around his waist. "You are so handsome when you are angry," she said softly, and reached up to pull his head down for a kiss. But he would not be pacified like an insolent child, calmed by a cuddle and a kiss. He pushed her away, so hard that she fell back against the dresser, nearly losing her balance.

She stood up, her face more angry than he had ever seen it. "You take this too far, Toy. Independence is one thing, but insolence is entirely another. I will not have it from you!"

"And I won't have it from you," Mat said through gritted teeth. "Get out. Get. Out. Of. My. Room. Now."

Tuon's hands were on her hips, her eyes blazing. "No! This is my palace! You get out, and don't come back until you can apologize for your insolence to the Empress of Seanchan!"

"Don't wave your titles in my face, _Precious,_" he hissed.

"I'll wave them all I need to," Tuon said coldly. "Get out! Go! I don't want to see your face for another second!"

"Fine!" Mat yelled back. "I should have been out of here long ago!" He grabbed his _ashanderei _and the small traveling pack that was still packed. "And I won't be back," he yelled over his shoulder as he exited the room.

A couple pieces of porcelain and china flew over his shoulders and smashed against the wall. He could hear Tuon screaming something after him, but he blocked it from his ears. He was leaving Altara, for good.

But that evening found Mat in a tavern, downing several mugs of beer. He tried dancing with some of the girls, but he wasn't in the mood. He felt sour and melancholy all over. _You got your freedom, man, _something muttered. _Isn't that what you wanted? _

But somehow he was not sure that it was.


	2. Love

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Wheel of Time._ _OrMat. Or anything, really._

Mat woke up in an unfamiliar bed. He rolled over and realized that there was a cramp in his side from the flat mattress. "Spoiled noble," he muttered to himself. Why wasn't he long gone from Altara by now? It had been three days since he had had his fight with Tuon. There had to be a reason. He scowled. It must have been that he was too drunk, or tired. He should have left, but somehow he kept finding reasons why he should not.

He found himself missing Tuon, suddenly. He was rather lonely in this inn, and he missed her dazzling smile, her polarized moods – even the foot long nails. He pushed that away. He was being silly. The woman was possessive, and he couldn't stand women who thought they owned him. It was just…some sort of attachment, from being with her for so long. It would wear off, he was certain. He hoped he was certain.

He wondered what Birgitte would say if she were with him now. Birgitte was the one woman who made any sense. Most of the time, at any rate. He imagined her smirking at him over a tankard of beer, and winced as he imagined what she would probably say.

_You're acting like a fool, Mat. Or should I call you Lord Cauthon, now? You think you're a noble? You better get out of this mad country before all those bowing people go to your head. _

No, that wouldn't be Birgitte. She would be laughing, no doubt. Birgitte would probably think the idea of him as a noble was absolutely hilarious. She probably knew all about how nobles were supposed to act, anyway. Or maybe not. Birgitte was one of the least ladylike people he knew. But about Tuon. Oh, she would laugh herself into hysterics over that. _I wonder which stiff neck will win, the Cauthon one or the Seanchan one? You should both learn some humility. But apologizing to her should be easy. Just get her really drunk, and- _

Mat flushed and shook his head to clear it. Yes, that was definitely more like Birgitte. He winced again, only half because of the cramp in his side as he swung out of bed. He would not apologize! Not when it wasn't his fault the woman insisted on following him as if she were tied to his heels. Probably with pink ribbons, too. The woman had tried to dress him up in pink. The first chance he got, he had dropped the florescent garment in a pig sty.

He was leaving. This afternoon, before the woman could confuse him anymore. No more excuses. He was out of Altara, for good. His head hurt, now. Probably from all that thinking he was doing. It wasn't good for the brain.

His mind made up, he ventured downstairs to check the ale supply this early in the morning.

Scowling, he sat down at the counter and brooded over a cup of cold lemonade. Somehow it was not the same, but the innkeeper had told this ruffled young man quite firmly that they did not brew beer this early in the morning. The bartender leaned over the counter. "You having trouble with women, lad?"

Mat started. It had been a long time since anyone had called him "lad." "How did you guess?" he muttered, and gulped his lemonade sourly.

The bartender nodded knowingly. "Well, they're what causes every man's troubles, aren't they? Viper's nests, every one of them. I'm married, you know, and a sharper tongue you never heard. All bossy and fussing over every little thing. What's your trouble?"

Mat choked at the description of the man's wife. "She sounds like Ny – like a woman I know," he said. "Come to think of it, she sounds like a lot of women I know." He grimaced. "The woman is the most arrogant thing under the Light – or out of it, probably. Walking around with her nose in the air, trying to tell a man what to do. I couldn't stand it, so I walked out."

The man looked sympathetic. "Thank the Light I've never known one of _those. _Smart to get out while you still can. But now you miss her, arrogance and all? I know the feeling. Just get her to come down here, make sure she knows that you won't stand for any more of her nonsense, and spend one good night with her. She'll forget all about the argument, trust me."

His reply sounded so much like Birgitte's imaginary one that Mat choked again, and the man had to pound on his back hard before he was able to breathe again. He scowled. Why did everyone seem to think he missed the Light burned woman? He didn't! He _would _not miss her, her with her nose in the air. The trouble was, the person that most seemed to think that he missed Tuon was himself.

He flipped a coin to the bartender and got up, pulling his scarf tighter. "I've got to go. For a walk." He said shortly, and stalked out of the bar, leaving a few people staring after him. Too late, Mat realized that the coin he had flipped to the man might have been gold. He scowled again, and wished he had brought his _ashanderei. _There would probably be five or six footpads on his heels by nightfall.

He headed out of the city. The guards didn't give him a second look – they knew his face from his insistence to Tuon that he be allowed to wander where he wished. Once out of sight of the city, he headed off the road toward the woods north of the worn, dusty path. The shade was refreshing – the stifling heat lately had been crushing him. He walked through the trunks at a leisurely pace, thinking. He seemed to do a lot of that, lately. He felt uncomfortable as he realized that it had been at least a couple months since he had been by himself, or alone with just _men. _It seemed all he had been doing lately was guarding the backs of various women, that walked off without so much as a thank you when they were done with your services.

He wondered what Tuon was doing, then pushed the thought out of his head. She didn't matter! He wouldn't think of her, not now that he was free. He had always feared being locked in a cage or being leashed, and that was exactly what Tuon represented. A leash attached firmly to his neck. That wasn't what he wanted, was it?

A very small voice murmured that it really depended on who was _holding_ the leash, but he shrugged that off. He was being stupid, no doubt about that. Who thought that a woman with a temper like winter winds, no hair and long nails was beautiful? Nobody, that was who. No one but a fool of a wool-headed, Light-blinded man.

And, unfortunately, it appeared that that was exactly what he was.

It was getting hotter in the trees. Mat sat down under a tree to rest and looked up at the branches, when he was warned by a rustle in the bushes behind him that there was someone there. He scrambled for a knife and backed away from the bushes, but it was a sign of his distraction that he promptly tripped over a root and fell over, hard. Mat swore and was getting to his feet when a figure darted out of the bushes. Moments later, he found himself flat on his back on the ground again, with Tuon smiling down at him. He scowled viciously and shoved her foot off his chest. Her smile was unbearably smug.

"It seems that you are not as good as they say," she said, and Mat noted the absence of her usual "Toy." Mat made a noncommittal noise, but felt his cheeks heat slightly. He cursed himself for being so unaware. She could have been a murderer, or a wild animal, or a Darkfriend…at least it was only Tuon. Mat grimaced. Perhaps "only Tuon" was not the best way to describe that. He would almost rather face a Darkfriend than embarrass himself in front of Tuon. She would never let him live this down.

Tuon watched him as he got up and brushed the dirt off his clothing, carefully not looking at her. Her gaze was intense. Finally, he slowly looked up at her. "What are you doing here, anyway? How did you know I was here?"

Tuon's face was unreadable, but he thought she might have hid a smile. "My spies have been following you. After all, I must watch over my assets. I thought that since you were at last on your own, it might give us the chance to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you," Mat said roughly, though he was dying to know the identities of these mysterious spies, and how he had not noticed them. "And you had best tell your spies to lay off. I'm leaving Altara, and if I catch them, you won't like what I do to them." It was an empty threat – if he hadn't caught them by now, he most certainly would not any later. There were more places to hide outside the city, anyway.

Tuon shook her head, smiling, as if he were a rather dim-witted child. "You cannot simply leave the Palace. You are the Prince – you have duties to your people."

"My people are that way," Mat said, waving a hand vaguely in what he thought was an eastern direction. "Your people are _not _mine."

Tuon looked disconcerted for the first time since he had known her. _Really _disconcerted. Actually, he felt rather proud of himself. Perhaps he was finally managing to find ways to get under her skin as she got under his. She bit her lip slightly, then wiped her face smooth again, perfectly expressionless. Suddenly she was all poise and self-possession again, once more with a plan. "If you help me, you will help your people. Your land is being ravaged – our armies can save it…"

Mat shrugged, pretending he didn't care. "Their problem, isn't it? I don't see how I can help you."

Tuon's temper flared for a moment. "Perhaps I misjudged you," she snapped. "I thought that you possessed some sense of responsibility, but it seems I was wrong." She turned, cool once more. "Perhaps I will return later, when you have decided you are willing to grow up and take responsibility. I am not ready to give up on you, yet."

Mat looked after her with a small sense of disappointment. Perhaps he had wanted her to fight harder. Half of him wanted to be convinced, wanted to follow – but he didn't want to cave in quite so easily. He resolved to wait until she decided to return. She would, wouldn't she? She had said she wasn't going to give up on him. A sudden sense of hesitation flickered. His mouth opened, and he heard himself call after her, with a small amount of humiliation at bending his neck for this woman, "I miss you, Tuon."

She turned, her eyes full of something like triumph, but also like relief. She smiled slightly, but there was a slight uncertainty, as though she were flickering on the edge of a decision. Then she seemed to make it, and came back toward him until she was right in front of him. She looked up at him, her face solemn. "If you will not return for my home or yours, will you come back to the palace for me?"

Mat looked at her, surprised. It had been the last thing he had expected her to say. He had not had the least impression that she missed him, only his skills, perhaps, or the presence of someone to annoy, He opened his mouth and closed it, at a loss for what to say. Finally, his treacherous voice made the decision for him. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I will come back. For you, Tuon." Gaining some control of himself, he added, "So long as you don't act like I'm your pet, or call me Toy, I will. I'm not a dog, Tuon."

She smiled up at him and smoothed her dress absently, looking embarrassed. "You can only keep a wolf on a leash for so long before it remembers that it is a wolf," she murmured. "But I am afraid you will have to walk back. I have only brought my own horse with me." She placed her hands on his chest and leaned gently against him. Her weight was so small that she hardly felt like anything. "I do have two requirements for you, though. First you must tell me that you love me. And second, you must give me a kiss, as proof that you are faithful."

Mat scowled at her, but she waggled a finger at him. "You must learn to listen to your wife's requests when they are reasonable, my husband. You have run away, probably been with other women, and scared me half to death. The least I deserve is a kiss and a promise of love…"

"Fine," Mat said, his eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief. "I love you, Tuon. And as for a kiss…" he reached down, swept his arms around her waist and picked her up off the ground. Then he kissed her as hard as he possibly dared.

It never ceased to amaze him how much women changed when you weren't watching. The last time he had kissed Tuon, she had been as clueless about kissing as a newborn baby and as limp as a doormat, with no idea of what to do.

It was, frankly, amazing how quickly she had learned.


End file.
